Let Fools their high Extraction boast,
And Greatness, which no Travel, but their Mothers, cost.
Let 'em extol a swelling Name,
Which theirs by Will and Testament became;
At best but meer Inheritance,
As oft the Spoils as Gift of Chance.
Let some ill-plac't Repute on Soutcheons rear
As fading as the Colors which those bear;
And prize a painted Field,
Which Wealth as soon as Fame can yield.
Thou scorn'dst at such low rates to purchase worth,
Nor couldst thou owe it only to thy Birth.
Thy self-born Greatness was above the Power
Of Parents to entail, or Fortune to deflower.
Thy Soul, which like the Sun, Heaven molded bright,
Disdain'd to shine with borrow'd Light.
Thus from himself th' Eternal Being grew,
And from no other Cause his Grandeur drew.